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welcome
I'm Amy. I'm growing up. And this is my past, present, and future.
I know you'll come in the night like a thief.
But I’ve had some time alone to hone my lying technique.
I know you think that I’m someone you can trust.
But I’m scared I’ll get scared and I swear I’ll try to nail you back up.
So do you think that we could work out a psalm?
So I’ll know it's you and that it's over so I won't even try.
I know you'll come for the people like me.
But we all got wood and nails,
And talk dirt at hating factories.
profile
My name is Amy. I'm a Gemini. I'm 25 years old. I'm a struggling artist, and an overly opinionated martyr of my beliefs. My past experiences, no matter how petty or dramatic they were, molded me into who I am today. I'm still changing every day.
I'm an artist. I love to draw and make things in photoshop [such as this blogger layout]. I also love music; I dabble in piano a little bit. I only know how to play other songs, of course. Nothing original. I like to write as well. Pretty much anything that involves the arts is something I enjoy doing. It gets me through the day and gives me a chance to express myself.
I have many friends who have come and gone, some who are even enemies now. Regardless, they've taught me a lot. I've learned to be more humble, tolerant, and kind, but also I've learned things like never to trust anyone completely off the bat, and to usually expect the worst. I'm generally pretty pessimistic and I think irrationally, but that's a nasty habit I'm trying to break. My intentions are good. That's something I must always remind myself and everyone else of. I have anxiety but I'm learning to control it better every day. This time a year ago it was impossible for me to socialize, but nowadays it's easier. Time mends everything.
I'm not really good at these self-describing things anymore. If you want to know me, ask me yourself. :3
Wednesday, June 27, 2012, 5:01 PM
I wish it was all a dream
I wish I could wake up with my heart racing, in a pool of sweat, with that sudden sigh of relief that it was only a dream. That you didn't use me, that I wasn't such a fool, that I didn't get stuck in this rut in the first place. I wish I could see your car pull up to my house and I could tell you about the fucked up dream I had, and you'd laugh and tell me, "That shit cray."
Things between you and I will never be the same. I can't even look at you the same anymore. Did I really make it that easy to walk right in and out of my life? You haven't talked to me in over a good 48 hours and I don't think I'll ever hear from you again. This is really fucked up and ironic, because in school when you used to act like you liked me, you'd always ask me about John. You'd always give me advice and you'd say, "John's an asshole. You deserve way better."
Then you used me like an old dishrag.
What a perfect ending to this piece of shit story.
